CattleDrive
by KelticDream13
Summary: Johnny decides he wants to understand his brother better, so he will walk in his shoes so to speak. Enter his world for a while. Can Madrid become a dandy?


Cattledrive

  
  
  
  


The leaves swirled about the legs of the man who stood in the street, facing another, standing five feet away from him. He stood there, legs slightly apart. His stance easy and relaxed, and his hat covering blue eyes filled with an icy coldness. The other man, the challenger stood there. Tall and lanky with slightly long hair and a few days growth of beard upon his lean face. His hand twitched slightly, and his eyes were slits as he looked at the man, he intended to kill. He looked at the younger man, in the black studded jeans, and salmon shirt. Hair as black as midnight fluttered in the wind under the brown hat. A toothpick sat between his lips, as his eyes bore into his. He shivered, and wondered if he had made a mistake this day.

  
  


Johnny stood there waiting, his mind clear, and resigned. Scott stood a few feet away over on the boardwalk, a worried look on his face. He was aware of everything going on, his senses alive, and those around could feel the crackle of raw energy surrounding him. 

  
  


The older man drew his gun, his hand grabbing the grip and pulling it out, feeling its weight against his hand, and he cocked it with his thumb, sweat beading his forhead, running into his eyes. He aimed as fast as he could, which was fast, he had a way with guns. But it wasn't fast enough. He looked into the cold eyes, and in the time it took to blink Madrid drew and fired. He watched the bullet come toward him, growing larger, and larger. It struck him in the chest and bore into his flesh. He knew a moment of pain, before he felt nothing. His last sight on this earth was the sight of Madrid, looking at him with pity. He fell into the swirling dirt and leaves into the now noisy street and lay still, waiting for the undertaker to carry him away.

  
  


Scott hurried over to his brother and put his hand on his shoulder. He saw the look within the dark electric blue eyes, and he turned him away and towards the horses. "Come on little brother, time to go home." Johnny just walked to his golden palomino and mounted him. Barranca turned and looked at his master and shared a look before backing out into the street for the ride home. Scott moved his horse beside the other one, and the two brothers rode out..

  
  


Johnny looked at his brother, and spoke in his quiet voice."Scott, I get so tired of this. I wish it could be different, I have enough ghost haunting me. I don't need more disturbing my sleep. I want to be like you."

  
  


"Like me? You would be bored to death, I'd rather be more like you little brother." 

  
  


"You don't live with death traveling with you constantly. I thought when I moved here, started over that it would be different. I would not have to use my gun so much, I would get to grow old, with a wife, kids,and maybe one day grandkids. Now I'm not so sure."

  
  


"Well Johnny, you can have that life. You will. People will forget Johnny Madrid. If it weren't for you, I would be dead several times by now. At first I wasn't sure if I liked having a gunfighter for a brother." A bright smile brightened the handsome face of the blond man. His eyes lit up. "But I wouldn't trade a certain gunfighter I know of, for any other brother."Johnny smiled back at him.

"Well, I kinda like having a citified yankee dandy for a brother. I'll make a real cowboy out of you yet." 

  
  


"Think so, do you? I know which end of the cow to rope, and which to brand. I know how to mend a fence. I can even track now. But can you tell me anything about Byron, or Shelley? Which fork to use to eat seafood? I could teach you a thing or two, make you into a bit of a dandy."

  
  


Johnny appeared to be thinking it over, chewing on his hat strap. "Yeah, you know Jenny likes books like that, and she knows about that kind of stuff. Can I borrow one of those books of yours?"

  
  


"Why sure you can little brother." Both men kicked their horses into a gallop. Johnnys' mood considerably lightened. They rode towards home and the dinner that would be waiting for them.

  
  


The early morning light came into the room through the crack in the heavy curtains. Johnny was standing in front of the mirror, a straight razor in his right hand. White lather covering his cheeks. He stood in his jeans, and boots. He was bare chested, and a small amount of lather had dripped down onto his tanned chest. His hand was steady as he pulled it up over the side of his face. Then wiping it on the towel. Scott came into the room without knocking, and moved over to the other side of the room.

  
  


"Morning Johnny. How about we go over to the west end , and collect those steers we have over there? Got to finish up, the drive is in a few days." Johnnys' eyes met his through the mirror.

  
  


"Sure, I can't say I am looking forward to two weeks of eating beans for every meal. How about you Boston?"

  
  


"No, espeally if you cook them." Johnny grabbed and threw the towel at his brother, who ducked, the towel flew over his head.

  
  


"Very funny. I was thinking Scott, that after the cattle drive. Well that if you want to. We could take a little trip, just the two of us. One of those civilized cities you like so much. See a play, go to a museum, and go to one of those fancy restaurants." Scotts' mouth opened in surprise. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't imagine his brother in a tux, or in any of those places. 

  
  


"Maybe, I can learn a little from you. That and learn a little about you as well. What you used to do." Scott smiled, pleased that his brother would be willing to do that. He would make it as easy as he could on his brother. He smiled and patted his brother on the back. 

  
  


"You got a deal Johnny."

  
  


Five days later, the cattle drive was going well, as it could. It was hot as hades, and the sun baked the riders and cattle like bisquits in an oven. Scott took his hat off, and wiped his forhead with his arm, and grabbed his canteen. Pulling the plug and tipping it, he drank deeply. The warm water going down his parched throat. It felt good, and he thought how good a swim would be. He had seen nothing but dust, and dirt devils swirling about. Thorns cutting into the horses legs, bugs flew buzzing around them. Taking a bite of hot, salty flesh, and irritating the cowboys and horses alike.

  
  


One of the hands rode toward a steer who had decided it would travel alone, and in a different direction. Jake rode and cut it off, and it turned and ran another way. The cow pony following and moving the steer back to the herd. A small dog ran around barking, working as a cowdog. The steers gave the dog a nasty look, spindle hanging from their chewing lips.

  
  


Johnny rode among the cattle, the dust kicked up by their hooves, covered him like a second skin. He could feel it's gritty touch on his skin. His blue shirt appeared almost white, and his black jeans appeared badly faded. He hated the dust, as he wiped at his nose, and sneezed. He really didn't like the cattle, the dirty smelly things. They were gasy, and they were ill tempered, and as stupid as a rock. Why they would run right off a cliff, knowing it was there, and still do it. How stupid was that? The only good thing about them was the flavor of the meat, and the money they sold for. Now horses were a different thing. They were smart, and they were beautiful. Too bad these weren't horses. He smiled and patted Barranca on the neck, his voice soft as he spoke spanish to the horse, who turned and nodded his head at Johnny as though he understood his master.

  
  


Scott rode over to his brother, and saw his brother watching the far distance. Searching for what he did not know. " Hey boy. Why don't you and I stop the herd here, and we can all go swimming. There is a large pond just over there to the west. Paul just rode up and told me he found it." Johnny turned and looked at his brother.

  
  


"Alright, ... you could use a bath big brother." Scott scowled at him.

  
  


"Yeah right. You have the fragrance of a rose I assume? I ..." He took a whiff of the air near his brother. "Seems to me, it's not rose but skunk." Johnny smacked at him and missed. 

  
  


"Last one in, has to ask Kathy Martin to the next dance."

  
  


"Anything but that! You know why her family have no mirrors in their house." Both men kicked their horses into a run, and raced across the hard packed dry earth, where even a blade of grass was afraid to plant itself. At the pond, Scott started to get off his horse, and he heard a splash, and turned and there sat Johnny in his clothes. He had left his gun and hat on Barranca. He waved at his brother.

Scott laughed and began to undo his gunbelt, followed by his pants and shirt. The bet shouldn't count as his brother had cheated. Oh well, maybe he could be out of town that day. 

  
  


The brothers swam, and played. Dunking each other, and playing tag. Some of the hands had joined in their play, enjoying the cool swim. Cattle and horses lined the edges of the pond. Drinking their fill. Finally Scott climbed out and went over to his clothes, and began to dress. Johnny followed, and the water streamed down his body pouring off the bottoms of his pants. He shook his head, water spraying out. He stopped and unbuttoned his shirt and then he wrung it out. Scott smiled over at him. Johnny just smiled and climbed on his horse, throwing his shirt over the horn.He mounted and motioned for his brother to mount up too. He sat there, the water that beaded his broad muscular chest, drying up leaving the tingling in it's wake. Scott pulled his hat on, feeling the heat once more. His face a little pink, and he wished for a cold glass of Teresas' lemonaid. Times like this he missed the weather back east. Boston was never this hot. Summers were mild, and very short. Winters were long and very cold.Even in June it was cold. 

  
  


Johnny felt something in the hot dry air, a feeling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Trouble was near, and he like an old friend it would seek him out, he was sure. He grabbed his still wet shirt, and pulled it on, leaving it open. His right hand checked his forty-five. Scott saw the look, and began to look around."Johnny?"

  
  


"I don't know yet, but I feel it. Get the men up and moving." He rode off, he eyes still searching, yet not appearing to do so. Scott turned to the men, and began issuing orders. Then mounted and followed his brother. 

  
  


The sound of a gunshot, echoed in the still air. Followed by several more. Rifles. Johnny saw the flash and he moved. The cattle lifted their heads, and as one, began to run, bawling as they ran. The men began moving, trying to slow the cattle. Their hooves pounding, sounding much like a avalanche. Several men rode out of some trees and rocks over to the north. They rode towards the cattle and firing their guns. The cowboys were busy with the cattle, and trying to keep from being trampled by them. They had no time to fire. Johnny moved Barranca through the cattle and straight at the men, who dared to attack them. Scott came along, further behind. He pulled his rifle out, and stopping, he cocked it and aimed, and fired. One of the men fell from his horse, as Johnny came closer, firing. The men turned towards him. He fired, taking the man in the lead, he could see the man jerk as the bullet struck him, though he stayed in the saddle. He leaned forward, and aimed and fired back. Johnny fired again and again. One of the other men, fell off backwards, and the horse behind him going to fast to avoid him, trampled him. One of the men fired and Johnny felt a burning sensation along his side. His eyes narrowed as his eyes got icy and he fired. He watched the man fall. Another one fell as a rifle somewhere behind Johnny sounded. The few men left, turned and rode off in the direction they had come. Johnny pulled up and watched the hands, as they worked to slow the cattle down. Scott rode up, putting his rifle back in the scabbard. 

  
  


"Well we got rid of them, hope they don't come back." 

  
  


"I don't think they will Scott. They lost too many. You alright?" Johnny was still looking at the rapidly disappearing men. Scott saw the red stain on his brothers' shirt, and he reached out and touched his brothers arm, concern in his voice.

  
  


"Johnny, you are hurt. Let me have a look at that." Johnny glanced over at his brother, and then down at himself. He had forgotten that.

  
  


"Nothing, but a scratch. I am fine.I have had worse."

  
  


"Maybe so, little brother, but let me see for myself?" Johnny smiled, and dismounted, and turned to his brother. Scott got down, and came to his brother. He pulled the shirt open, it wasn't buttoned, it was just stuck to the wound. Johnny stood quietly as Scott prodded the wound, and mumbled something under his breath. 

Johnny sat, on the ground and watched his brother, who was putting up a bottle of fire. At least it had felt like it on his wound, when Scott had put it on. Strange thing, all those years of looking after himself, with no one caring if he lived or died. Now with a big brother, who was something of a mother hen. At least he knew that when his time did come, he would not be alone at the gravesite. He would have people who remembered him and loved him. He had gained much when he had taken his father up on his offer, best of all, he had gained a brother. A very special brother. He smiled to himself, and let mother Scott think he had really done something. For it had only been a scratch, and it would be sore for a few days, but nothing to worry him. Scott turned and their eyes met, and Scott smiled at him. Johnny returned the smile, and leaned back against his saddle and pulled his hat over his eyes. The men were sitting around, readying for the night, talking and some playing cards. Cook was stiring a pot over the fire he had roaring up, the flames licking the bottom of the pot. A delicious smell of stew wafed over, and his mouth watered. A large pot of coffee sat on the bar over the fire. A plate of thick slices of bread sat on the end of the wagons tail. Along with the tin plates and cups.

  
  


Scott, turned and began to unroll his bedroll. He knew he had gone overboard a little with his brother. But he had to lookout for his brother, who certainly didn't look out for himself. Took too many chances. After all, he had no intention of losing his new brother, his best friend. Not if he could help it. He ran a hand through his blond hair, and felt the salt stiffened hair pull against his fingers. He curled a lip at that. He really needed a bath, perhaps he should go back to the pond and do just that, maybe after dinner.

  
  


That night as the men sat around the fire, talking, and rolling smokes and drinking coffee. Scott came back from his bath, and he looked around and saw that his brother was missing. He got on his horse and rode out to the herd, he heard a voice singing softly, it was in tune and musical. He listened and knew it was his brother. Strange, a singing gunslinger, who could actually carry a tune. He relaxed, as he listened, watching the cattle who appreciated his brothers talent as well. When the song ended, Scott turned towards the way he thought his brother was, and came face to face with him. 

  
  


"Hey Boston." He reached out a hand and put it on the side of Scotts' head. "Did you wash behind your ears?" Scott could see his brothers white smile in the moonlight. "What is that I smell? Hummm..... I think it is that fancy soap you order from back east, smell pretty." Scott smiled and swipped at his brothers head, knocking his hat off, that fell down his back, held by his chin strap. 

  
  


"Well it wouldn't hurt you little brother." Johnny shook his head at that.

"Nah, I think I can wait a little longer. Plain ole soap is good enough for me. I don't need all that to get the girls. I just use the Madrid charm."

  
  


"You do, huh? Well it didn't work last week over at that party at the Mathews place. That pretty little blond wouldn't give you the time of day."

  
  


"Yeah, well she didn't have her glasses on, and she couldn't hear too good." Scott laughed and let it go. Johnny was a charmer, that was true, and he gave Scott a run for the money when it came to the ladies. The Lancer boys were well known in the area, for their appeal to the ladies. So far Scott had been faster than the ladies, and had not gotten lassoed yet by any girl. He wasn't ready to settle down yet. Neither was his brother. He had an idea, and he smiled. 

  
  


The morning began, with a heavy rain. Thunder rumbled a long way off, and the cowboys hoped the thunder and lightning would go around them. The rain began, as they were getting up for the day. In minutes they were drenched to the skin. The ground was so dry, that the rain bounced off, and dirt shot up with it. The dry earth seemed to sigh with the moisture so long denied. The cattle looked up and began to bawl at the rain that lashed at their faces. They began to move about, bumping each other, and beginning to get restless. The cowboys quickly got into their slickers, and grabbed a few pieces of jerky, for the breakfast was ruined, water filling the pot with the oatmeal, and putting out the cookfire.The cook ran around putting things in the wagon. The men saddled their horses. Hats pulled low, and water pouring off the brims. It was going to be a bad day. Yesterday it was too hot, and dry. Today would be too wet. 

  
  


He pulled his collar closer around his neck, trying to keep the water from pouring down his neck. He looked out at the land before them. The skies were filled with dark boiling clouds. The rain was like a curtain, it came down so hard and heavy. He should not have bothered last night, with a bath. Seems his brother had been right. Everyone was getting a shower this morning. He moved his horse out, and rode off to the cattle. The men rode quietly, watching the cattle, and keeping the strays from getting away. Scott smiled as the wagon came along side. The dog was sitting in the back, with only a nose sticking out. At least he was out of the downpour. Smart dog.

  
  


The rain showed no signs of letting up, as the day aged. Johnny rode after a steer that had gotten tired of playing follow the leader and gone exploring. Johnny followed him, as he ran. Johnny was following at a full gallop, when he came over the little hill, and Barranca tried to stop and couldn't. He fell, and Johnny went flying over his head. The steer was falling in front of him, Barranca behind him. They fell, rolling over the wet slippery ground and down into a revene. Johnny slammed into the steer, and the steer kicked out at him, from where it lay. Barranca came next and slammed into Johnny. The heavy weight drove the air out of his lungs. Pain took over his brain, and thoughts. He felt Barranca began to get to his feet. Johnny could not move, and his head was swimming. He felt the rain, beating him in the face. Taking what breath he had left from him. He lifted his head, and came eye to eye with the steers red eyes, that was filled with fear. Great, he thought, the last thing I see is a damn ugly steer. It stinks too. His eyes rolled into his head, and his head fell back. Everything turned black. 

Scott turned in surprise when he turned to see Barranca coming up to him, riderless. The horse was covered in mud, and had several scraps along his neck. Scott put out his hand and touched the velvety nose, and looked around for his brother. He saw no sign of him. He felt a chill going down his neck, and turned to the men, and yelled at the closest one to get a few men together. They had to search for Johnny. 

  
  


Scott searched, his eyes sharp, and seeking even a small sign. He heard a sound, and stopped his horse and listened. Yes, he had heard a steer, it sounded mad. He followed and came to the edge of the revene. His heart leaped into his mouth as he looked down. There was the steer, laying there on it's side, kicking and his brother. He lay partly across the side of the steer. His hat twisted, lay beside him. He was not moving, even when the steer kicked him with a hoof. 

  
  


As fast as he could, he jumped from his horse, and without stopping he slipped and slid down the mud and down to his brothers' side. He came down on his knees in the now deep brown mud. He reached out a hand and touched Johnnys' face. It was cool, and pale. "Johnny! Come on boy, open your eyes." Scott looked him over, and saw the scratches that were on his hands and the ones showing through, where his shirt was torn. He began checking him out for damage. He found several busted ribs, and a badly bruised left hand. That had swollen and turned a dark shade.He touched his brothers head, to turn it, and found his fingers had touched something warm and sticky. He looked closely, and found a cut and a goose egg on the side of his head, just behind the left ear. He hoped he had found all the injuries. He turned at the sound of a low whistle, and there was one of the men. Good, he needed help getting his brother out of there. He glanced at the steer, who mooed at him, and rolled it's eyes at him. One leg was crooked, and Scott knew the steer was done for. He started to reach for his knief, but decided he would let someone else do it, he had a brother to take care of. 

  
  


Scott and Jelly had stripped Johnny of his clothes, and had him in the wagon. He would not be happy, that was for sure when he woke up. Scott turned him over to check his back for injuries and he was surprised. There further on down. On one of his brothers firm, round cheeks there was a hoof print. He had been branded by the steer. A small smile crossed Scotts' face at the sight. Then he turned his brother over. His brother was covered in bruises, and scratches. He took the bottle of alcohol and with a clothe, he began to dab the cuts. Then he took some water and began to clean his brother up, cleaning the mud from his body. Johnny moaned once and then seemed to be dreaming. Something unpleasant as he moved about. "Well I am sorry brother, there aren't any pretty girls here to clean you up, only your older brother." He pulled up the blanket to the waist, and with Jellys help he bound the ribs. 

  
  


Johnny came up from a fog, and listened to his brothers voice. He was reading something, well he always had a book with him. His head hurt, the man with the sledgehammer was in a foul mood, he was doing the work of a dozen men, inside his head. His eyes opened, and there was a faint light coming from a lantern hanging over head. His blurry vision cleared, and he saw Scotts face. Scott feeling the eyes on him, turned. He smiled down at him. "Well it's about time, you sure take long naps."

"Yeah, I thought I would hide and take a nap, use a steer for a pillow." Johnnys' eyes held pain, though he didn't complain. Scott grabbed a cup and lifting his brothers head, helped him drink some of the cool water.

  
  


"Water, don't I get any whiskey?"

  
  


"Whiskey, not from me. You have to do better than this to get any. A least a couple of broken legs, and a arm or something. Ready to get back to work?" Johnny smiled at him, and grabbed his head. Scott was worried, and he couldn't seem to hide it.

  
  


"Yeah, I'll just rest a minute, first." He rubbed his head, and felt very tired. That was too much work. He had trouble breathing, and his hand ran down his muscular chest until it came to the white bandages around his middle. 

  
  


"We arrive in town tomorrow, and we will get the doctor to check you out. Any other pains, than your head, hand and ribs?"

  
  


"Is that all I hurt? It feels like I got trampled by the whole herd. But I don't need a doctor, I will be back in the saddle in the morning." Scott shook his head, at his bullheaded brother.

  
  


"No you wont, brother. You aren't going anywhere until the doctor says so. If you like I will read to you. I have just the story. The man charactor is like you."

  
  


"Okay ma, go ahead." Scott smiled and ruffled his brothers dark hair.He picked up the book and began to read. Johnny listened, curious about this charactor.Couldn't be like him.

  
  


"I say, sir, you sir, who are hiding yourself behind that shutter--yes, you, 

sir, tell me what you are laughing at, and we will laugh together!" 

The gentleman raised to ascertain whether it could be to him that such strange 

reproaches were addressed; then, when he could not possibly entertain any doubt 

of the matter, his eyebrows slightly bent, and with an accent of irony and 

insolence impossible to be described, he replied to D'Artagnan, "I was not 

speaking to you, sir." 

"But I am speaking to you!" replied the young man, additionally exasperated with 

this mixture of insolence and good manners, of politeness and scorn. 

The stranger looked at him again with a slight smile, and retiring from the 

window, came out of the hostelry with a slow step, and placed himself before the 

horse, within two paces of D'Artagnan. His quiet manner and the ironical 

expression of his countenance redoubled the mirth of the persons with whom he 

had been talking, and who still remained at the window. 

D'Artagnan, seeing him approach, drew his sword a foot out of the scabbard. 

"This horse is decidedly, or rather has been in his youth, a buttercup," resumed 

the stranger, continuing the remarks he had begun, and addressing himself to his 

auditors at the window, without paying the least attention to the exasperation 

of D'Artagnan, who, however placed himself between him and them. "It is a color 

very well known in botany, but till the present time very rare among horses." 

"There are people who laugh at the horse that would not dare to laugh at the 

master," cried the young emulator of the furious Treville. 

"I do not often laugh, sir," replied the stranger, "as you may perceive by the 

expression of my countenance; but nevertheless I retain the privilege of 

laughing when I please." 

"And I," cried D'Artagnan, "will allow no man to laugh when it displeases me!" 

"Indeed, sir," continued the stranger, more calm than ever; "well, that is 

perfectly right!" and turning on his heel, was about to re-enter the hostelry by 

the front gate, beneath which D'Artagnan on arriving had observed a saddled 

horse. 

But, D'Artagnan was not of a character to allow a man to escape him thus who had 

the insolence to ridicule him. He drew his sword entirely from the scabbard, and 

followed him, crying, "Turn, turn, Master Joker, lest I strike you behind!" 

"Strike me!" said the other, turning on his heels, and surveying the young man 

with as much astonishment as contempt. "Why, my good fellow, you must be mad!" 

Then, in a suppressed tone, as if speaking to himself, "This is annoying," 

continued he. "What a godsend this would be for his Majesty, who is seeking 

everywhere for brave fellows to recruit for his Musketeers!" 

He had scarcely finished, when D'Artagnan made such a furious lunge at him that 

if he had not sprung nimbly backward, it is probable he would have jested for 

the last time. The stranger, then perceiving that the matter went beyond 

raillery, drew his sword, saluted his adversary, and seriously placed himself on 

guard. But at the same moment, his two auditors, accompanied by the host, fell 

upon D'Artagnan with sticks, shovels and tongs. This caused so rapid and 

complete a diversion from the attack that D'Artagnan's adversary, while the 

latter turned round to face this shower of blows, sheathed his sword with the 

same precision, and instead of an actor, which he had nearly been, became a 

spectator of the fight--a part in which he acquitted himself with his usual 

impassiveness, muttering, nevertheless, "A plague upon these Gascons! Replace 

him on his orange horse, and let him begone!" 

"Not before I have killed you, poltroon!" cried D'Artagnan.

  
  


Scott stopped, and glanced at his brother, thinking he would be asleep, and found him listening, a small smile on his lips. He looked up at him. "Don't stop now Boston. I want to find out what happens to D'Artagnan next. I think I like this book." Scott smiled and he read, his soothing voice carrying his brother away from his pain, and into another time and place.

  
  


"Your brother is a bit banged up. He should be resting for a few days, and no work. He may suffer from some dizzy spells now and then, he has a concussion. But I gather from what I have observed, that your brother will not do that." Scott smiled at the doctor, and glanced at the closed door.

  
  


"You have that right, Doctor. He doesn't allow himself to be bedridden if he can move a finger.I will keep an eye on him. Thank you Doctor."

  
  


"You are welcome young man. I have some powders here, in case he can't sleep. Or you think he has been doing too much. You might slip some in his coffee." Scott took the powders and put them in his shirt pocket. He looked over at the door, as it opened. There stood his brother, standing stiffly. One hand wrapped in linen. He reached up with one hand, and pulled his hat onto his head. He smiled at the doctor, as he passed. 

  
  


"Thanks Doc, see I am fine." The doctor just shook his head, at Scott as the dark haired man went out the front door. Scott followed. Johnny moved down the steps and began to walk down the street. Scott put a hand on his shoulder, and pulled him up a little.

  
  


"Slow down, we don't have to rush anywhere."

  
  


"I do, I have a bottle of tequila waiting for me." 

  
  


"Tell you what, why don't we also get something to eat, while we are at it. Though I think I will stick to beer."Johnny reached out and put his good hand on his brothers' shoulder and squeezed. His eyes warm and loving.

  
  


"Thanks brother. By the way can I borrow that book? I want to finish it." Scott nodded, and the two brothers headed down the street. Scott had collected the money for the cattle, paid the men, and put the ranch money in the bank. He and Johnny would be taking the stage to San Francisco tomorrow morning. He had plans, he and his brother were going to enjoy themselves. 

  
  


Johnny stood in his room, standing by the bed, his tux was laying there ready. He couldn't believe it. There he was in San Francisco, fixing to go to a fancy restaurant and to the theatre. He had an hour before he and Scott were to leave. He spulled off the robe he was wearing. After all he had said he would try Scotts' world for awhile. Stupid things, robes, as was pajamas. What was wrong with what he wore to bed? 

  
  


He stood in front of the full length mirror, and looked at himself critically. He saw the bruises and the scratches. Well since coming to the ranch, he had put on more muscle, from all the hard work. Gunfighting didn't put on muscle. He thought to himself, he could use a couple inches, he wished he were a little taller, like Scott. He knew he was handsome, and the girls had no complaints. But he didn't really see it as the ladies did. He stood there in front of the mirror, his tan skin glimming from his bath. Wide shoulders nicely padded, just right to lay a ladies head on. Strong muscular arms, capable of defending a lady, or holding her tight, making her feel protected. A chest that was wide, and his corded muscles rippling under the flesh of his stomach. His gold medallion gleaming around his neck. A tapered waist, nice to put slender arms around. Slim hips, with nice rounded tight buns. A well indowed front, that no lady or otherwise could complain of. Firm strong legs that were a bit hairy. To top it off was that face, those eyes, that melted a ladies heart, lips that promised such passion, and when he smiled. Ahh well.... A handsome face that drew the eye. That hair as black as a ravens' wing. Nice to run the fingers through. Combine it with that cocky look and walk.... he was one man, that most ladies dreamed of finding for their own. He might not have the education or the fancy manners, but franky who knowtested, when he was near?

  
  


Scott came in a half hour later, and found his brother trying to do the bowtie. He smiled and moved over to stand in front of him. He reached out, batting his brothers hands out of the way. He quickly fixed it and stood back, studying his brother. Why the boy cleaned up good. That black tux, and those shiny shoes. Even the ruffled shirt looked good on him. Though he could see his brother was uncomfortable it the clothes. "Well brother, you look real nice. The ladies will be chasing the Lancer brothers tonight. Ready?"

  
  


"I guess." He looked at his brother, who was all turned out, and wore a top hat and a cane in hand. His handsome brother was happy, and ready for anything. Johnny wished he was. He felt uneasy in these clothes. If anyone he knew saw him, they would bust their breeches laughing. He followed his brother out the door.

  
  


The were waiting for their food to arrive, Scott had ordered the food. Johnny sat figiting, and twisting his napkin with one hand. His eyes taking in the other patrons of the establishment. It was something to see. The fancy place, and the fancy people scared him. Even the people who served him, dressed up. Scott smiled over at his brother, seeing his old habit at work. "Relax little brother."

  
  


"Easy for you to say. What if I drop something on the tablecloth? Its all white and lacy."

  
  


"Don't worry about it. Just enjoy the food, and the music." He glanced at the musicians that were playing softly in one corner. The lights were dim, and candles lit the tables. Johnny picked up his glass and sipped the wine. It was sweet and he finished it quickly. Several couples were dancing, and Johnny looked over at the waiter who came over carrying a silver tray, laden with plates. After being served Johnny sat for a moment looking at his plate. Remembering what his brother said. He picked up the first fork closest to him and began to eat, and saw the smile in his brothers eyes,as he began to eat his food. Johnny finished the meal, and he sat back and smiled, as his brother offered him a cigar. He took it, and the two brothers' smoked and talked. Scott was proud of his brother.He knew his brother could do it. After all he was his brother. 

  
  


The two brothers got in the open carriage and sat down, for the ride to the theatre. Johnny was smiling. "What are you thinking about brother?"

"Oh, that I am actually enjoying this. The food was good, but there wasn't enough of it. What is wrong with one fork? Easier to clean up after."

  
  


"Yes, you are right. But that's the way it's done here. I am glad you are enjoying yourself. You feeling okay, no pain?"

  
  


"Nah, I am fine. I was thinking, where could I get one of those swords. Like D'Artagan had? I was thinking that thing might be fun to use. Seems easy enough. We could both get one. You can be Athos and I will be D'Artagan. Too bad we don't have another couple of brothers. I don't think Murdock would make a good musketeer do you?"

  
  


"No, I would say not. I do know of a place where we can get a couple. If you are serious. I took some lessons with the epei."

  
  


"Good, you can teach me. I think I would be good with one." Scott shook his head in wonder. What had he started? Now his brother would be running around the ranch with a sword. Murdock wouldn't be happy about that. Not that he was happy anyway. He knew his brother would be good with it, with the right teacher.... He hoped his brother wouldn't decide to go to europe and start a new kind of career as a swordsman. Better not mention that. Maybe he shouldn't lend him any more books.

  
  


As the two handsome brothers walked into the theatre, Several pretty heads turned their way. Both men smiled, and Scott bowed slightly to them. A very pretty brunette and a redhead came up to them. Obviously sisters. "Good evening ladies, a nice night for the theatre."

  
  


"Yes it is. I am Charlotte and this is my sister Susan. This is the first time we have seen you here. Are you new here?"

  
  


Scott bowed over Charlottes hand and kissed the back of it. His lips soft and warm. It made her cheeks warm. We are only in town for a few days. I am Scott and this is my brother Johnny."

  
  


"Ladies, it is a pleasure." Said Johnny, with a nice smile on his kissable lips. Susan looked at him, her violet eyes boldly looking into his beautiful blue ones. She smiled and spoke.\

  
  


"Perhaps gentlemen, you would let us show you around town tomorrow. We remember how hard it was when we first came here."

  
  


"That would be our pleasure ladies. We would be honored if you would join us this evening, in our box."

  
  


Susan took Johnnys' arm and said softly, near his ear."I would like that very much." She spoke a little louder to her sister."Wouldn't we Charlotte?"

  
  


"Oh yes" Charlotte put her hand through Scotts offered arm and the two men led the ladies into the theatre. Johnny smiled down at Susan. 

  
  


The stage coach pulled in, and the boys saw Murdock standing there waiting. He smiled as they got out. He looked them over, and seemed satisfied they were in one piece. "How was the vacation?"

  
  


'"We had a good time. Scott really knows that town." He didn't mention the things they did. He certainly wouldn't tell him about the one place that Scott had taken him. That was a secret, for the next time. 

  
  


"I must say, Mudock. That the trip was much better with Johhny along. He fit right in." Murdock wasn't so sure of that, knowing Johnny. Johnny was again wearing his usual clothes. Johnny reached in the coach and pulled out a long case. He was grinning from ear to ear,as he turned around. Scott smiled and put his hand on his brothers shoulder. 

  
  


"What you got there, boys? A new rifle?" Johnny opened it and showed him. Murdock looked at them with surprise. Swords? What happened to guns? He looked at his youngest, and the excited little boy looked back at him, from inside the man. He could keep still, and finally he closed the case. "Swords, what ever do you need those for?"

  
  


"Why Murdock Scott and I need them. What is a Musketeer without their swords?" Murdocks mouth fell open, and Scott laughed. Johnny was right, they were, at least two of them. All for one and one for all............

The End


End file.
